Gilded Latten Bones (17 page)

It didn’t happen. It wasn’t the time, even if it was fated.

She clambered out the window. A clumsy process, also slower than it had to be. But she turned divinely graceful once she started walking on moonlight.

She said, “There’s something about you.... When your relationship with the redheaded woman falls apart, I’m coming for you. You’ll be amazed. We’ll be the talk of the town. We’ll have the wedding of the year.”

I gulped and gaped as she fluttered away, leaving no doubt that she meant every word. Hill folk do when they make a declarative statement. Even shy, socially inept Hill folk.

Which left me with extremely mixed emotions.

I lay back, sure I wouldn’t sleep again for the rest of my life.

45

I’ve got talents. I’ve got skills. When my head gets too frothy with what-ifs, I’ve got a live-in (so to speak) Loghyr who steps in and shuts me down. I slept till midmorning.

Singe came to wake me. I came round in a good mood. “If it wouldn’t get us both burned at the stake I’d pro —” My tongue froze. My jaw locked. Old Bones
never
touched me that way.

That he had needed no explanation.

Ratpeople weren’t built to frown. But Singe could squint and demand, “What?” in her most puzzled tone.

“Singe, I was going to make a really bad joke that would’ve been way out of line. I’m sorry. I’ve been away too long.”

Singe was bright but didn’t work that one out. Thank God. Or the gods. Or maybe the old dead thing downstairs who saved me the taste of leather in my mouth.

So. Singe was a grown ratwoman and no longer entertained adolescent fantasies about us becoming lovers. She was the wondrous perfect business side of my business. But she still had emotion invested. She could be hurt deeply by what might sound like me poking fun.

By the time you reach two hundred we will turn you into a mature, thoughtful, sensitive adult who thinks before he says... Oh, sugar!

Oh, sugar? What the h-e-double-broomsticks did that mean?

While the mental stuff happened I dragged myself out of bed. My marvelous business partner, whose feelings I had just so bravely taken into account, sniffed around with increasing agitation.

“You had a woman in here last night!” There was an angry edge to her voice. After several bellicose sniffs round the bed, though, she relaxed.

Maybe the Dead Man brought her up to speed. Or she worked the whole thing out with her mutant nose. Garrett had avoided temptation.

Oh, sugar, because we are about to have unexpected guests. And you need to be here to help manage them.

An image of an angry band of Children of the Light formed in my mind. They made a big black blot in the street.

“What’s the big deal? Ignore them.”

I would rather not. More than most who come threatening grief or mayhem, these old men could cause us some discomfort.

Naturally, he didn’t explain.

With Singe’s assistance I made myself presentable and was ready before the hammering on the door commenced. I used the peephole, saw a lot of black clothing. I let the folks stew till the Dead Man thought they were ready.

My first impression was, wow! I’d better send Singe for Cap’n Roger. Half these guys were going to expire before sundown. Their median age had to be in triple digits. The youngest looked like he started yearning for the good old days when the Dead Man was a pup.

Four had reached my stoop.

“Howdy, fathers. How can I help you?” How had they survived the climb? “If you’re collecting for your church I have to tell you we’re Orthodox here.” By birth. I hadn’t been to a service in an age.

“You have Brother Hoto Pepper confined here. We have come to take him away.”

The Dead Man sent,
Pull the ugly one inside and shut the door. Lock up, then bring him in here.

Excellent. We had a plan. All I needed to do was to pick a winner.

Old Bones had no patience. One old man developed a halo. I grabbed, pulled, slammed, locked. Well, Singe did the locking while I held the door shut.

Our victim shambled dispiritedly off to the party room. The Children of the Light outside waxed enthusiastic in their threats. The Dead Man showed no concern.

I asked, “You need me now?”

Not right away.

I headed for the kitchen. I was hungry.

I didn’t get far with correcting that.

You may allow our visitors to leave, now.

I pushed back from the table, marched off to do my duty. “You sure?”

There is nothing more that I can retrieve from any of them.

Two old guys in black and the poisoner Kolda
 
—
pardon; the
apothecary
Kolda
 
—
awaited me outside the Dead Man’s doorway.

Kolda will be gone only a short while. He will gather some specifics to help with Playmate. Please make sure that Brother Hoto does exit the premises. He is reluctant to rejoin his own kind. He fears that they will ask him the same questions I did, but using tools.

I expected a hassle from the crowd when I released their brethren. That did not happen. The Dead Man had tamed or confused them. And they had worn themselves out chipping the paint off the door.

I closed up and went back to reacquaint myself with breakfast.

As I passed my former office I noted that Morley’s only company was Dollar Dan. The caretaker ratwomen had come and gone. The other guards had gone with them.

We do not need them now that there are no outsiders in the house. Mr. Dollar can go once you finish eating.

I trekked on and in time assailed a stack of griddle cakes. Dean didn’t make those often. He was in a good mood. I mentioned it.

“Perhaps because of the excitement yesterday. It took me back.”

I looked at him askance.

He didn’t change his story.

46

I shut the door behind Dollar Dan. He would come back later, to sit with Morley while I was upstairs snoring.

“And snoring it had better be,” Singe told me, remembering the woman smell. She did not like Furious Tide of Light today. I wasn’t sure why.

I can’t quite work out how Singe decides who she likes and who she doesn’t, nor why she will change her mind overnight. Her brain doesn’t work like mine. I’m sure her sense of smell has something to do with it.

I settled in near Morley, a pot of tea at hand. The Dead Man filled me in on what he had learned from our visitors, including tidbits from the elders who had come for Brother Hoto. Of interest was the fact that Winger and the Remora were drifting apart, the drift mainly hers. She couldn’t handle his success.

We do not know much more about the threat to the city. We do know who has been warned off it. We have eyes and ears watching and listening, now. We know we will get Mr. Dotes back. Additionally, we have set in motion actions that offer a chance of rescuing Playmate from the natural monster devouring him.

That was good news. “Did you get anything from the Windwalker?”

Vague amusement, presumably at my expense.
That woman is the most simple-minded, empty-headed genius I have ever encountered. She can focus her entire being on the moment. You could do far worse.

“Excuse me?”

As a practical matter. She would provide all the fireworks
 
—
and more
 
—
with none of the drama of your Miss Tate.

“Uh...”

Miss Algarda is ready to grant her devotion. That would be unreserved and absolute. She considers you an ideal candidate. Although she is an immense and formidable power, and a genius professionally, her emotional world is simpler than that of Deal Relway.

“That’s scary.”

It is. She does not grasp nuance or shades of gray.

The answer to why me might be tucked inside what he had sent. A different kind of sociopath, she would not need time to work things out. Is/is not, with nothing in between. “She would be clever enough not to push me, wouldn’t she?”

You could be right in considering her a special kind of sociopath. She is smart enough to show the behavior she has seen in courtships. But she will not be resilient if she is mislead, mistreated, emotionally abused, or blackmailed.

“I believe I get the idea.”

Good. You are staring into the eyes of a big responsibility.

I had an uncomfortable notion that I knew what he meant.

Dotes’ First Law. Keep your hands off a woman crazier than you are. Which I observed in the breach. Furious Tide of Light would be, “You Touch It, You Bought It.”

But I didn’t believe she was crazy. Not the way girlfriends usually are.

Her head worked different, sure. She had grown up sheltered from life. She coped now because she didn’t go out much. When she did she dealt with people she scared so bad they couldn’t imagine messing with her.

Hers was a unique emotional realm but it was the only one she knew.

Part of me did find her damned intriguing. It hunted loop-holes in Dotes’ Law.

That was the part exhausted by squabbling with Tinnie.

“What do you think, Old Bones?”

I think it is none of my business. I think you are an adult now, and I should not tinker
 
—
unless, as was the case with Singe this morning, you start running your mouth with no thought to the consequences.

I was stunned. By making that carefully neutral statement he had told me something I’m sure he did not intend. He had doubts about Tinnie. After all this time.

I would have expected him to endorse the redhead and reject the Windwalker. I wasn’t in her class and she came with a whole different drama. (I wasn’t in Tinnie’s class, either, but a different definition of class was operative there.)

Maybe he was tired of the drama, too.

Still, I carefully reviewed his communications since he had labeled Furious Tide of Light an empty-headed genius. I got a strange impression that he did prefer the Windwalker but would be careful not to say so.

Off I rambled into my own internal drama land, wondering what it was about the beautiful but weird sorceress that made her a preferable mate.

Morley tried to say something.

47

Morley was awake.

His eyes were halfway open, fluttering. He wanted to say something.

Having been in his position myself, I told him, “You’re at my place on Macunado Street, being watched out for by me, Singe, the Dead Man, Belinda, John Stretch, the Civil Guard, and the godsdamned Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light. Somebody really wanted to close you down, buddy. Oh. You’ve been out for more than a week. They tried to poison you, too.”

In retrospect, that actually helped. His wounds healed a lot while he was unconscious.

He tried to sit up. He got nowhere. His wounds were not healed enough. He felt them, too. And now had no strength left.

“Water!” was the first word I understood.

Then Dean was there, not only with water but with warm chicken broth. Singe was only a moment behind. She helped lift Morley so Dean could deliver the water and liquid chow.

After the stress level declined and the broth began to work, Morley croaked, “Tell me.”

“Be easier for the Dead Man to...”

“You tell.”

I told my part and what I knew to be true with the precision I used reporting to the Dead Man.

Morley did not seem much interested in who had stabbed him. He was intensely interested in all the whos and what happeneds after he went down. Singe and I added what we had heard from unreliable sources.

Everything given him, I moved on to my own curiosities. “What were you doing in that part of town, anyway? Not that you don’t have a right to go wherever you damned well please. But, unless things changed lately, you don’t have much to do with those people.”

Sometimes I think he was embarrassed by his ethnic background.

He was not yet in any condition for real talk. He eyed me in disbelief. Then his handsome face collapsed into despair. “I can’t remember!” Moments later, “
He
couldn’t root it out?”

“No. Unless he didn’t recognize it because it didn’t connect with everything else.” That was my theory. Morley had been involved in something else entirely when he walked blind into something deadly.

Morley frowned. I took that to mean he wanted an explanation.

“Sarge thinks you were up there paying off your fiancée’s family.”

Morley looked puzzled but I didn’t feel any honest emotion behind that. I didn’t pursue it.

Old Bones could fill me in later.

I did ask, “How do you justify Belinda Contague against Dotes’ First Law?”

“There are twelve kinds of crazy, Garrett. Romantic attraction is the worst.” His first complete statement, and, probably, one of the truest things he ever said.

I am getting nothing more now than I did while Mr. Dotes was unconscious. There is nothing there. Though it would appear that chunks of memory may have been lost to concussion or that drug.

“A pity.”

Indeed. All that can be done now is to protect him till he can protect himself.

“He’ll want to get after this before he’s physically ready.”

Should he be so inclined I will make sure he falls asleep on his way to the door.

I chuckled.

Morley scowled.

I explained. “Not to worry. We’re just planning your future. You’ll thank us later.”

He hurt too much to be amused.

I said, “There’s some silliness taken care of. What do you figure on doing?”

“I’m going back to sleep.” And he did, just like that. And it was the best thing he could do once he was full of high-potency chicken broth.

Soon he would get full-bodied chicken soup with noodles and bits of bird.

The Dead Man suggested that I forget Mr. Dotes for a while. I should go relax with Singe, who could help bring me up to speed.

That made me feel like I had been cast as a spear-carrier.

I had few options if I wanted to stay close to Morley.